


new person (same old mistakes)

by edgelordtozier



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Friendship, Sleepovers, Stranger Things Spoilers, mentions of playboy magazines lmao, robin is a lesbian, sexual innuendos and jokes, steve is in love with nancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 20:18:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19775647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgelordtozier/pseuds/edgelordtozier
Summary: After the events of The Battle of Starcourt, Steve Harrington finds himself going back to an all too quiet empty home. Overtaken by feelings and a sense of anxiety, he calls his new best friend Robin.They have a sleepover.





	new person (same old mistakes)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stupidityisdangerous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidityisdangerous/gifts).



> here's my writing dawg. robin is a lesbian so this is not a ship fic lmao but ive made that clear in this So.
> 
> also leah, I kept the terrible "hopelessly hopeless" line in just for u
> 
> my tumblr is @edgelordtozier if u want to follow that ;))

Steve Harrington felt hopelessly hopeless. Grasping onto something small that would never actually happen anytime in his life, but something he longed for so deeply it pained him. Though he did not know precisely what it was he was longing for. Love, perhaps; or maybe just Nancy Wheeler, who was most definitely wrapped up in Jonathan Byers' arms right now, warm and protected despite the traumatic events of the day. 

Steve wished he could feel protected. 

He truly was alone if he really thought long and hard about it. His parents didn't give a shit about him, too busy with their jobs and their perfect lives without their imbecile of a son. He didn't have a girlfriend anymore, and even when he did she didn't truly love him as he did her. And his only real friends were children much younger than him, who would be busy soon at a school he'd already graduated from. 

To top it all off, he'd spent the last few days with terrifying Russians punching him around and drugging him up, all ended off with a huge monster that nearly killed everyone earlier in the day. And sure, it hadn't all been terrible; the parts where he got to joke around with Robin and Dustin and Erica made up for it all in a way he couldn't explain. 

The part where he professed his newfound feelings for Robin was embarrassing, though. Getting rejected always sucked. But he found it wasn't as bad as he expected it to be. Getting told by a girl he had feelings for that she didn't like him in that way —not because he was a bad person— but because she liked other girls herself was much easier to take, he found. And of course he respected her. He would have been stupid not to. She was hilarious, beautiful and so smart; it would have been a loss to not settle for just friends. 

His feelings hadn't dissipated just yet, but he knew they would soon. He wasn't desperately in love like he had been—or maybe even still was—with Nancy Wheeler. It was a crush, something that easily could have developed into more if he hadn't been let down in such a way. He didn't have a problem with the way she didn't like boys the way society told her she should have. 

Sure, if she would have told him a year or so ago he probably would have reacted in a much different way; but that was a result of the people he surrounded himself with. Tommy H. and those shitheads who emphasized what he already hated about himself and misconstrued everything to make it look like he was the bully, when it was really their actions that got them into mess after mess. And Steve played a part in most of them, he would admit. He wasn't just a bystander, watching and allowing. He partook in the shitty things they did, and he wasn't proud of it. But it was usually their plans and their pressure that pushed him into executing those things. 

He was glad he'd abandoned them after the fight with Jonathan Byers. After Jonathan had beat the living shit out of him while the love of his life— who he'd just called a slut publicly; painted by Tommy in red on the big sign in the front of the movie theater while Steve watched and didn't protest— watched and pleaded with them both to just stop fighting. Steve realized he probably should have on his own, rather than only stopping when the police arrived and acting on his own cowardice. Maybe Nancy would have thought higher of him and perhaps they would have still been together. But that probably wouldn't have happened anyway. Steve had done something fucked up, and he knew that helping clean it up afterwards didn't excuse it. 

Nancy just liked Jonathan more than she'd ever loved Steve. According to her, their relationship had been bullshit from the start; so maybe Steve shouldn't have put as much as he did into it. But he couldn't have helped it. He'd been in love with Nancy ever since he'd laid eyes on her; spoken to her and seen the way she smiled shyly and looked down at the ground. He wanted to protect her, love her, keep her happy. It seemed Steve was bad at doing anything right nowadays. 

He'd failed at that, failed so desperately to just keep Nancy happy. Maybe he didn't even put enough into the relationship in the first place, maybe he was just bad at being a good boyfriend, maybe he'd just always make the same mistakes over and over again. She'd left him and he'd been alone, so alone and so melancholy. 

He wanted to feel alive, so he fucked girls who just wanted a good hook up. He liked it, but the euphoria was never as much as it had been when he was with Nancy, so deeply in love and infatuated. It would never be the same. 

And then he'd graduated, and the loneliness jerked up to an all time high. He had Dustin Henderson, the curly haired kid he'd fought interdimensional monsters with a while before and become best friends with, giving him tips on picking up girls despite just how fucking atrocious he was at it himself, but that was all. Dustin looked up to him for whatever reason, and Steve couldn't bring himself to tell the kid he wasn't role model material. He was just Steve Harrington, the fuck up with good hair who somehow got lucky with girls when he had been in high school. 

Dustin had gone to camp the first month of summer. He'd shown up to Steve's high school graduation with his mom and a plate of cookies, congratulating him on actually finishing high school despite his low grades. He'd graduated high school, but that didn't mean he'd go to college, Dustin had joked. The poor kid didn't know just how true that statement really was. 

Dustin had sent him a toothless grin and thumbs up, performing the handshake they'd made up before Dustin announced he'd be leaving for camp the next day. They said goodbye on the field while Steve was in his cap and gown, holding a plate of cookies with foil on the top, as he watched Dustin Henderson walk away. After that Steve drove himself home to an empty house, where his parents were absent. They hadn't bothered to go to his graduation. They'd only left a note on the dining room table that said "congratulations," a one hundred dollar bill underneath. He'd pocketed the money, ate a cookie or two and went to bed, feeling worse than ever. 

In that month that Dustin was gone, the Starcourt Mall had opened. The town adored the place, despite the older residents protesting the fact that the downtown area was all too empty now. Steve found it to be an opportunity. 

He'd gotten a job at Scoops Ahoy alongside Robin, and it had been easy enough. He didn't make a lot of money an hour, and the job definitely wasn't his passion; but he had no other choice. His father didn't believe him to be smart enough to work for his company, despite Steve being his only son. It was unfair, infuriating and unprecedented. He could have at least given him a chance. But Steve had to settle for something else, something simple. 

He didn't know that working at the ice cream place would have such dire outcomes. But now, there he was, sitting on the sofa in his empty home late at night with a bruised face, clad in his bloodied Scoops Ahoy uniform, hands clasped together and nails scratching nervously at his palms. His house was too quiet, too silent for him to feel comfortable, safe, _protected. Jesus, would he ever feel protected?_

The happenings of the day had been far too much for Steve to handle; the aftereffects of the Russians beating his ass and the hangover of whatever drugs they had given him only added to discomfort. Robin rejecting him and telling him she liked girls topped it all off; which wasn't nearly as horrible as the rest. He supposed all that mattered was their friendship remaining intact. But then there was coming face to face with Nancy and Jonathan again and the monster- huge and terrifying- trying to kill all of them. And then the end of it, when Billy Hargrove- the bastard- died on the ground with his sobbing step-sister beside him and Steve thanked fuck it wasn't him dead on the ground, with no one to cry by his side. 

The military had arrived after that—led by Dr. Owen's from Hawkins Lab—and they'd all gotten out of the mall. Steve was guided into an ambulance and his wounds were treated, though he'd played them down as if they hadn't mattered and told them all he needed was bandaids. After a while they hadn't bothered fighting him on it, ignoring his nasty black eye and the purple and yellow bruise taking over his cheek. 

He'd wrapped himself up in a blanket, walked over and made small talk with Nancy and Jonathan about what had happened. He'd asked them where they'd go after they were all released, and they'd told him they were going back to Nancy's house together. When they asked him the same question, he'd lied and said he was spending the night at a friends house. He didn't want them to pity him if he told the truth and said he was going to be completely and utterly alone all night.

After that he'd talked to Robin and Dustin, spoke to them animatedly about whatever came to mind in an attempt to get that thing out of his head. His parents didn't come to pick him up, as expected. The keys to his car had been taken by the Russians earlier so Steve, much like after his graduation, walked home. 

And now here he was, nervously picking at his fingernails, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip hard enough to worsen the split of it from the earlier beating he'd endured. He still lived in his parents' home and he knew they didn't mind. Why would they? They were never home anyway and it didn’t tamper with their work. Though Steve hated the goddamn house, hated how large and quiet it was. 

And now it was too quiet. So, so, quiet; quiet enough that Steve could hear his own heart beating rapidly; the sound of cars driving by outside; the phantom sound of footsteps that weren't really there, that he was really just making up in his mind out of nerves. He could turn on his TV, but the old thing barely worked anymore. It was an older model and he'd had it for a few years. He could have turned on his radio instead, but he didn't bother getting up. He didn't know if he refrained from turning it on because he was scared of the slight chance of hearing the familiar growl of the monster again or if he really was just too anxious to stand up. 

He could hear his breathing, the inhale and the exhale growing faster as time passed.

Steve shot up. He stood up so fast that his vision grew blotchy for a moment, and he clenched his jaw so tight that it hurt, grinding his teeth together out of annoyance. Annoyance towards what, he didn't know. Perhaps he was annoyed by the way he was acting. _Big bad King Steve breaking down because it was a little too quiet and he felt lonely and scared._ Jesus, he sounded like a child. 

Steve ran a shaking hand through his hair, ignoring the ache of his bruised knuckles; a wound he'd developed after hitting a Russian guard. Dustin had been so proud, and Steve found he felt pride in himself for even just a second. 

He shook off the initial blur of his vision, sighing under his breath as he found himself walking over to the telephone plugged into the wall in the kitchen above the counter. He had a phone in his room as well, but there was no use in walking all the way upstairs just for that. 

He grabbed the phone, holding it up to his ear as he used his other hand to dial the number, the number he'd memorized the day it had been told to him but had never called before. He'd never had a real reason to call it, they'd seen each other nearly every day all summer due to their shared job. 

"Hello?" A familiar tired voice on the other end rung out, breaking Steve out of his thoughts and making him jump in surprise. 

He let out a heavy sigh, running a frustrated hand down his face and wincing when he touched the prominent bruise on his cheek. "Robin? Hey, it's...uh...it's Steve. Y'know, Steve Harrington? The Steve you work with?" He rambled out. 

Robin laughed on the other end, a noise that Steve had found himself growing fond of. "You could have just said you were Steve, you dingus. I'd know which Steve we were talkin' about. I only know seventy other ones."

"Really? You know more Steves?" Steve asked with a chuckle, raising his eyebrow to himself. Talking to Robin helped him realize just how nervous he had been beforehand; made the shaking of his hands cease to a minimum. 

"No, dumbass," Robin spoke, and Steve swore he could almost hear her roll her eyes. "What did you call me for? I was like half asleep, man."

Steve bit the skin on the inside of his cheek too hard, flinching lightly at the pain before he let out a shaky sigh under his breath. He found himself sighing a lot nowadays. "This is a really weird question and you can say no if you want to, but uh…do you want to come over for the night?"

The other end was silent for a few long seconds and Steve hated how it made his stomach churn. Before he could open his mouth to assure Robin was still on the other end, she spoke, gently and tentatively. "Steve…. you remember what we talked about in the mall bathroom today, don't you?" 

Of course he did. The talk where Robin let him down and told him she liked Tammy Thompson rather than him, despite her singing sounding like Kermit the Frog and Fozzie Bear’s love child. Steve didn't mind, but the conversation was still fresh in his mind, made only more vivid by the shock that he had felt in that moment. Nonetheless though, it meant nothing now. Steve just wanted to be friends with Robin, and her sexual orientation didn't change that. Besides, he needed to withhold at least one friend his age.

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Not like that. I'm not gonna make a move on you, don't worry. The embarrassing feelings are gone. Pretend I never said anything about them," He said simply before he cleared his throat almost awkwardly. "Y'know it's just my parents aren't home and… uh… kinda still fucked up over the Russians. I thought maybe you'd want some company too," He paused. "I've got a pool."

Steve heard Robin chuckle gently on the other end, letting out the slightest sigh before speaking. "Yeah sure, moron. But if my dad catches me sneaking out, it's all your fault. You've gotta use your rich boy money to pay him off," He heard Robin stand up, rustle through some things and open up her window. "What's your address, Harrington?" 

Steve told Robin where he lived, listened to the girl hum and explain how she wrote it on her arm in blue glitter gel pen before she hung up and presumably began her trip to Steve's house. He didn't know if she had a car, and he probably should have asked beforehand, but he hadn't thought about it in time. 

He set the phone back down on the wall, walking away and sitting back down on the sofa. It was two in the morning, still dark outside with barely any light seeping through the blinds over the windows. Steve had nothing on in the house but a measly lamp and he just hoped the monster was really dead and that the thing wouldn't start flashing the lights like it had that one time at Jonathan's house. 

The thought of the monster was a thought that seemed impossible to force out of his mind. His focus would stray at times, but mostly kept to that one thought, that one impending image of a monster running after a car and a teenage boy that could have been him dead on the floor. 

Steve hated it. 

He hated that the second he got home from the mall he'd found the bat he kept stowed away under his bed, the one with nails stuck inside of the wood; and he'd placed it on the coffee table in front of the sofa, eyeing it with unease as he sat down. 

Steve looked over at the bat, found himself swallowing thickly at the mere thought of those things he'd fought off by the abandoned bus; at the terrified look on those kids’ faces when they'd blocked off the entrance, held it down as a means to keep those things out; at Max's scream when she saw one pop it's head in through the top, growl at her with such vigor. He was a good babysitter, he supposed. At least, Nancy had thought so. But what does she know? 

Everything, maybe. Everything about Steve that he'd tried so hard to keep bottled up. She knew he was a shitty boyfriend. She knew that their relationship; that her love for Steve was bullshit. Though Steve's love for her was never bullshit. It was far from it. 

Steve averted his gaze from the bat, turning it up towards the ceiling. He could smoke something, numb the pain in his face and his knuckles and his _brain_. But that would just remind him of his father, the way he'd come home one day to Steve laying against the counter, a giggly mess with bloodshot eyes and terrible smelling breath. The way his father had pulled him up too roughly and yelled at him, asked him if he was doing drugs. The way Steve mumbled out "it's just marijuana, dad," had earned him an incredulously angry glare from his father. The way his father dropped him back down on the floor and muttered that he wished he'd gotten a better son than Steve.

Steve understood why they did. If he'd been a better son, perhaps he would be working happily in his father’s large company, not having to deal with all this… _bullshit_. Fuck, maybe Nancy would want him back if he wasn't full of so much _bullshit_. 

Steve jumped when the doorbell rang, more antsy than usual. Huffing to himself at his own behavior, Steve stood up and walked over to the door, opening it without bothering to look at who was there. 

Though he didn't have to, as Robin stood behind it as expected. She too was still wearing her Scoops Ahoy uniform—minus the hat—blue and white now stained with just the slightest amount of dirt and vomit and perhaps some blood, too. She looked tired, purple bags under her eyes and her hair tangled. But despite that, she smiled. "Ahoy," She greeted jokingly, eyeing Steve's uniform in amusement. He knew his was definitely covered with blood and vomit from earlier, as gross as it was, but he hadn't the energy to change. 

"Ahoy," Steve chuckled, stepping aside and gesturing for Robin to walk in. She did so, stepping foot in his home and almost immediately furrowing her eyebrows, looking around. He noticed the smeared ink on her arm, glittery blue just like she'd explained on the phone. He could have laughed if he weren't still so damn shaky.

"Shit, this is huge. Or bigger than my house, at least. I knew you were loaded but damn, dude," Robin laughed out, looking over at Steve with a grin before she plopped down on his couch, legs propped up on the coffee table, one crossed over the other.

Steve shut the front door, locking it and moving to sit down beside Robin. He watched as she scrunched her nose up in confusion, reaching out and grabbing the bat from the table, tracing her finger over the nails with a confused expression. "Something like this happened last year too. And a little before that," He explained in a mumble, pointing to the bat. 

"Holy shit. This town is mega fucked. I've never noticed anything before," Robin shrugged, placing the bat back down. "So, you scared or something? Of the huge monster?" 

Steve didn't find himself trying to argue on it because, yes, he supposed he was scared of the huge monster. He found himself nodding a bit, sighing. "A little. I just don't like being alone much. It's- iIt's lame, I know..." he trailed off. 

Robin nodded in understanding before she stood up. "Well, let's go to your room," She spoke, rolling her eyes at Steve's responding raised eyebrow. "Not for that, moron. I like girls, remember? Tammy Thompson?"

"Ah. How could I forget that you liked the muppet?" Steve joked with a laugh, shaking his head as he stood up, guiding Robin up to his bedroom. She followed, laughing at his words the same way she had in the bathroom at the mall. He loved her laugh; the way it sounded raspy, cracking just barely in the middle. 

"She was cute! And I liked her perm. Usually perms are godawful, but hers worked with her face shape," Robin explained with a chuckle, not wasting any time to sit herself down on Steve's bed when they walked inside his room, right down on his plain light blue bedsheets. Steve turned on the lamp placed on his bedside table.

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say. I still think hers was terrible," Steve spoke with a small grin, sitting beside Robin. "She looked like Barbra Streisand but worse."

"Hey! I'll have you know that Barbra Streisand is hot—smoking, even!" Robin exclaimed, looking at Steve with a wide smile. 

"Oh yeah, smoking in the crematorium. She's old, and if anyone looks like a muppet, it's her," Steve joked with a laugh, watching curiously as Robin stood up from the bed, moving to look through Steve's drawers. "What the hell are you doing?"

Robin chuckled, "You're being an ass to Barbra, so I'm gonna look through your stuff," She spoke, opening up the first drawer. Steve laughed as she snorted in amusement, holding up a box of condoms. "Gross. I'm assuming you haven't used these in a while?"

"Ha ha, very funny. I use them plenty," Steve deadpanned, rolling his eyes. That was a lie, of course. Steve hadn't had sex since a little before summer began, and even then it was a terrible hook up.

Robin placed the condoms down, opening up the second drawer. Her eyes widened, grabbing the magazine inside and holding it up in front of Steve, who's eyes widened as well at just which one she held. "You have _Playboy_ s?! You really are lonely. This room is a ‘Steve and his right hand’ zone, huh?"

"Of course. I should get a sign that says just that and put it on my door," Steve pointed out casually, nodding his head and watching as Robin pulled out the other three _Playboy_ magazines out of the nightstand, walking back over and sitting down on the bed. 

Robin raised her eyebrow at the top one in the stack, chuckling. "You're real updated. You've got the July one and everything."

Steve chuckled, looking over at the magazine cover. "My dad has a subscription. He tells me not to look at his mail and just put it in his nightstand but I steal his _Playboy_ s sometimes. He gets pissed at the mailing company for screwing up and gets a new copy for free," He spoke. "I have the Madonna September issue too."

Robin's eyes widened as she picked up the Madonna 1985 September issue, flipping through the pages with an undeniably large amount of interest. "Tell your dad I said thank you," She joked. "You may suck, dingus, but you have good taste in women." 

"Maybe," Steve mumbled lightly, unable to help the image of Nancy Wheeler that popped into his brain. He swallowed hard, finding himself picking at his fingernails again. He stopped, shaking off those thoughts and mumbling a joking, "You can't really relate to the good taste in women part."

"Maybe not," Robin laughed out, nodding along to Steve's words before she closed the magazine. "Can I keep one? I'll give it back in like a week or something."

"Keep as many as you want," Steve shrugged. He didn't really mind. He had more under his bed anyway, if he really needed to let off some steam. It wasn’t like he’d found his libido to be too high nowadays.

Robin grinned widely, grabbing the Madonna issue and two other ones, placing the one she didn't want to keep back in Steve's nightstand, shutting it and setting the magazines on top. She turned back around, looking at Steve for a moment before chuckling. "Your face looks shitty."

Steve surprised himself by laughing, nodding a bit. "Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better about myself," he joked, still grinning to himself. 

"You moron, I mean your bruises. You look stupid with those bandaids on your face. All of that is gonna get infected and you're gonna get like, Russian herpes or some shit," Robin explained, shaking her head. "Where the hell is your first aid kit?" 

"Russian herpes? What's the difference between American herpes and that?" Steve asked with a raised eyebrow, "and in the bathroom cupboard." 

Robin laughed, walking off to the bathroom connected to Steve's room, grabbing the first aid kit from the cupboard before coming back to the room. "Russian herpes is like a crazier, gooier herpes. You're gonna have huge warts on your face and when you touch them, they'll pop and there will be puss all over your face and in your hair and shit," she joked with a grin, opening up the first aid kit. 

"That's disgusting," Steve chuckled. "I knew a girl with herpes. She stopped showing up to school. I think she got pregnant," He mumbled, watching as Robin laughed, yanking the bandaids off of Steve's cuts before pouring some sort of liquid on a cotton swab before pressing it against Steve's wounds. He couldn't help but let out a yelp, flinching back. "What the fuck?"

"See, this is why I didn't warn you it would hurt," Robin huffed. "Stay fucking still." She spoke, dabbing the cotton against the rest of his cuts and bruises. Steve flinched every time as well, but tried to stay as still as possible. "Getting pregnant would blow. Good for us, huh? You're not gonna get pregnant, are you?"

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Not planning on it. Who knows, though? Maybe I'll get reckless one of these days," He joked with a grin, wincing when Robin began to place larger bandaids on his cuts, gentler than she applied the liquid to them. 

"That'd be a sight. Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington with a child. Or maybe herpes. Maybe...both, like that girl!" Robin laughed, moving away from Steve's face and closing up the first aid kit, going to put it away before coming back to the room. She sat down on his bed, raising her eyebrow. "Sleeping arrangements, hot shot. What's it gonna be?" She grinned. 

"I've got a sleeping bag if you wanna sleep on the floor. But you like girls, so us sleeping in the same bed shouldn't be a problem for you, should it?" Steve asked, genuinely asking. 

Robin chuckled. "Nah. Wouldn't bother me at all. You sure it wouldn't bother little Steve though?" She asked jokingly, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Steve rolled his eyes, finding his cheeks growing just barely red, simply out of embarrassment. "I'm sure! I would be fine! I told you, feelings are gone."

"Alrighty then, Stevey," Robin grinned, pulling off her shoes and lying on the right side of Steve's bed over the comforter, either lacking shame or just so comfortable around her newfound best friend Steve that it seemed she lacked shame. "You said you had a pool. I'm gonna swim in it tomorrow morning."

Steve chuckled at her bluntness, nodding his head and lying on the left side of the bed, hands clasped over his stomach as he stared up at the ceiling. "Sounds good," He smiled lightly, shrugging. He found himself comfortable around Robin; more so than he probably ever had with Nancy. With Nancy, he was always so worried about being the perfect tough guy for her; the perfect guy who didn't feel anything heavy except for anger and protectiveness over his girlfriend. With Robin, he could be himself, because Robin was his best friend, nothing more, and that was much better than having a girlfriend; despite his earlier opinions. 

It was silent for a few minutes, comforting silence that didn't leave Steve anxious and worried. Nothing but the sound of their breathing and the occasional chuckle Robin would let out at nothing at all. 

"Do you still love Nancy Wheeler?" Robin asked after a while, catching Steve by surprise. He glanced over, eyes a bit wide, caught off guard. Robin was still looking up at the ceiling, smiling to herself. 

Steve thought of his answer for a moment, swallowed and averted his gaze back up at the ceiling as he poked his tongue out to lick his lips nervously. "A little, yeah," He whispered. "I think I always will."

Robin let out a laugh, a laugh that made Steve furrow his eyebrows and look over again, look over as Robin laughed harder. "That's so lame," She explained as she calmed down, looking over at Steve with a grin. "Nancy Wheeler is hot as hell, but you're Steve Harrington. All the girls that aren't lesbos like me are in love with you! So why are you so obsessed with Nancy, out of all people, when there are so many better girls out there?" 

Steve sighed, shaking his head with a bitter chuckle. "None of them like me anymore. I've lost it, I guess," he murmured, shrugging. 

"Exactly why I had that board. You suck," Robin smiled wide, "which is why you should take a break. Relationships are shitty and clearly you're not good at them. Word of advice, get over Nancy. She's over you." 

Steve knew it was true. As much as it pained him to hear it, Nancy was over him. And Steve should have been over her too. He shouldn't have been constantly reminiscing about what life was like with Nancy Wheeler, but he couldn't help it. She was the love of his life and getting over her would never be easy. For him, their love was nothing close to bullshit.

"It's not that easy," Steve mumbled simply, letting out a sigh. 

"I wouldn't know. I've never been in love. Guess I'm not educated enough to tell you what to do, but still. You should try to get over Nancy," Robin smiled gently, glancing over. "She's just fucking you over."

"I guess so…" Steve trailed off. "The monster today... did you think it was gonna kill you?" He asked curiously, mostly as a means to avert the topic. 

"Nah, man. I wasn't, like, petrified with fear or anything. Maybe I should have been but it was pretty cool to see. Same with the Russians but, hey, I wasn't the one getting my face bashed in," Robin laughed. "What about you, dingus? Were you scared?"

"Already told you; a little. I thought I was gonna get killed or something like that. And I probably would have been if Dustin and Erica hadn't shown up..." Steve spoke, nodding slowly. 

"Most likely. That little dude is cool as hell. Annoying, but cool," Robin grinned. "He reminds me of you, but nerdier."

"Come on! I'm not nerdy enough already?" Steve joked with a grin that mirrored Robin's, looking over. "You couldn't tell from my extensive _Star Wars_ VHS collection?" He joked again. He definitely didn't have one. He'd only ever seen the first ever Star Wars movie, anyway. And during that, he'd only been ten years old.

"How could I have possibly forgotten?! You're a new man! You know everything there is to know!" Robin smiled wide. "Who's your favorite _Star Wars_ character?" 

"Uhhh… the little green guy with the sword," Steve said slowly, making little motions with his hands that really didn't help to explain at all. 

"You're amazing! _Star Wars_ extraordinaire. You should partake in trivia, I'm sure it exists," Robin joked with an amused laugh. "You'll get tons of chicks if you join a fan club."

"Seriously?" Steve asked, genuinely curious as he held himself up by his elbows, glancing over at Robin with a grin. "I'm sure Dustin knows a few I could join. I just have to catch up on the last couple of movies and I'm golden."

"Oh, are you?" Robin mocked with a chuckle. "No, moron. Hot girls will scatter if you start talking about sith lords and R2D2."

Steve furrowed his eyebrows for a moment. "What the fuck is that?" 

"Exactly! You don't know anything about it either. Nerd girls will hate you and so will the popular girls! All the girls! Sucks for you, dingus." Robin smiled wide. 

"What _will_ get me girls?" Steve huffed out, letting himself fall back down on his bed. 

"What did we just talk about, Steve? No relationships for you until you get over Nancy," Robin scolded, flicking Steve in the side of the forehead, to which he winced and rubbed the spot with the palm of his hand. 

"For future reference!" Steve defended, shaking his head. 

"You're asking the wrong girl, Harrington. Flirting is nowhere near my expertise," Robin chuckled, waving him off. 

"Then what is your expertise? Using your pointer and middle fingers?" Steve grinned, laughing at the resulting slap on the arm from Robin. 

"No, idiot! My expertise is bad advice. I'll give it to you if you give it to me," Robin grinned. 

"First of all, that sounds terrible," Steve pointed out with a chuckle. "Second of all, why would I want bad advice?" 

"Hey, advice is advice, Harrington. Take it or leave it. Maybe it'll be good advice in a box that looks like bad advice." Robin shrugged. 

"Wh-what…what the fuck does that mean?" Steve asked with furrowed eyebrows, confused. 

"You are such a dumbass. You know what? Never mind." Robin laughed out. 

"No! I want bad advice!" Steve protested, shaking his head. He found himself entirely forgetting all the happenings of the day. It was only him and his best friend, the girl who would give him shitty girl advice for a long time. Steve liked it that way. 

So Robin grinned and nodded her head, let out a laugh that filled the room and took over all the silence that Steve hated so much. After a few more hours of talking, Robin fell asleep, sprawled out in her Scoops Ahoy uniform on Steve's bed beside him and Steve shut off the lamp without any further concern of seeing a monster lurking through his window. 

The silence was filled with the sound of Robin's snores, snores that Steve found amusing and comforting rather than irritating. And Steve, despite believing that he wouldn't fall asleep that night, shut his eyes and didn't find himself dreaming of anything but the friends he had who loved him. That was what he had been longing for. Love, but not from Nancy. He didn't need Nancy Wheeler— or any girlfriend for that matter— when he had his friends who would love him more than she ever had and would never treat him like, well, _bullshit_.

Maybe this was where Steve Harrington felt protected. 


End file.
